


Be Crime, Do Gay

by sheregenerated



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Thasmin - Fandom
Genre: 1960s, F/F, Gay Panic, Historical, Homophobia, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, LGBTQ Themes, Misogyny, New York, New York City, Police Brutality, Stonewall Inn, Stonewall Riots, Trans Character, thasmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 09:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23969086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheregenerated/pseuds/sheregenerated
Summary: It all started in a dingy, dark little bar on Christopher Street in Manhattan. Just another hot summer night in June 1969. In a time where being different was a crime, there were few safe spaces. Stonewall Inn was one such place, where you could dress how you like and dance with those you liked, regardless of the danger outside those walls. Until one night all that was going to be taken away from them– they fought back, that anger and resentment finally boiling over the surface, rioting for days and providing that spark that propelled the movement for equality across the globe and rippling through history.–but what if someone were to interfere? What if the Gay Liberation movement never took off?Can the Doctor and Yaz save history? Can they save themselves?
Relationships: Thasmin - Relationship, The Doctor & Yasmin Khan, The Doctor/Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan, Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 15
Kudos: 22





	1. Ten Minutes?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Authenticsleeping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authenticsleeping/gifts).



> Today's Pride marches have roots going back to the Stonewall Riots. They wouldn't be here if not for those who had rebelled back in the 60's. Much is unknown about them, the LGBT community are the keepers of LGBT history. Everything I learned was from homophobic news articles from the time, word-of-mouth passed down from folk who were there, documentaries, and my own judgment for what may or may not have actually happened. 
> 
> I think that, especially with 13 and Yaz, this is the perfect time for an LGBT-focused Doctor Who story. While I have taken creative claim over much of it, the characters are owned by BBC's Doctor Who and the historical events will not be entirely accurate. Our history books are written by the winners, after all. And while we have vastly more rights than we did then, it should all be taken with a grain of salt. 
> 
> There may be some homophobic slurs or activity further along in this fic. I try to keep things fluffy, but I love making things detailed and historically accurate when able. Read assured, there will be a note at the beginning of any chapter to caution against potential triggers within. I do place a blanket caution, given the context of this story, that not all people they meet will be friendly and there will be mention of how life was for LGBT folk in the 60's peppered throughout. 
> 
> As is the case for many, my local Pride has been postponed until further notice. Take solace in knowing that wherever you are in the world, you can still celebrate! Even if it's only online or with yourself. We're all one big community without borders <3 <3

“What’s that?” Yaz asked the Doctor as some alarm went off on the console. The TARDIS was, as far as Yaz could tell, alive and sometimes did things to get their attention or nudge them deliberately. She didn’t entirely understand how it worked, but she paid attention and she tried. “Is Earth in trouble again?” She recalled when the same sound had alerted them of a Dalek in Sheffield on New Year’s. 

“It’s probably nothing,” the Doctor replied, but the quickness of her gait and alertness in her eyes indicated otherwise. “On second thought, we might have to take a detour on the way to Deva Loka.” 

“How big of a detour?” Yaz asked as the Doctor danced around the console. She’d been looking forward to visiting the planet, which sounded nothing short of paradise to her. The Doctor had described it as having warm seas, multi-coloured birds, jewelled insects, and, best of all, no predators. She wasn’t one to shy away from danger, but when you bounce from one thrillride to the next without any breaks, a little vacation was rather appealing. 

“Ten minutes?” The Doctor posed, scronching up her face in a way that always hit Yaz deep. 

“Ten minutes,” Yaz confirmed, though the Doctor had done all but pull the final lever by this point. She had tried to observe and learn just what buttons served what purpose, tried to learn how the console worked in case she ever had to pilot it in the Doctor’s stead, but as far as she could tell, the Doctor and the TARDIS worked together like two halves of a whole, neither able to achieve spacetime travel without the other. 

Plus, according to the Doctor, she’d chucked the manual into a supernova, so there was little hope of Yaz taking up the skill. 

“So, where are we?” Yaz asked the Doctor once they’d landed. 

“Wrong question,” she said as she headed for the door. 

“ _When_ are we?” Yaz course-corrected. The Doctor beamed. 

“Bingo. Ten points to Yasmin Khan,” the Doctor praised and, though there was hardly any competition, Yaz felt her spirits rise at the little victory. “New York City, 1969,” she announced, throwing open the TARDIS door as if revealing the latest sports car at an auto show. 

Yaz stared out the door but did not move to pass through them. 

Without turning to look, probably assuming Yaz was gawking in awe, the Doctor continued on. “Specifically, Greenwich village.” 

The Doctor rolled her tongue around her mouth as if savoring some aftertaste the air had left. 

“Doctor–”

“June, no, July–” 

“ _Doctor–_ ” 

“–eleven– no– _half ten_ in the morning.” 

The Doctor smiled proudly as she concluded her introduction. She then noticed Yaz still hadn’t moved. She frowned. 

“What?” 

Yaz raised her eyebrows, her eyes darting out the doors and then back to her. The Doctor turned to look, then back to Yaz. 

“What?” 

“You’ve parked us behind a dumpster.” 

“So?” 

Yaz lowered her eyebrows and pressed her lips together. Had she _intended_ to park behind a dumpster? 

“That dumpster’s a pebble,” the Doctor said, and Yaz looked at her like she sprouted a second head. As she was unpacking her statement, the Doctor was already marching out of the TARDIS. 

Yaz followed her. 

“Do you want to do it together?” the Doctor asked, lacing her fingers together to provide Yaz with a boost onto the top of the dumpster. 

Yaz sighed with resignation. 

“Together,” she said, unable to stop herself from going along with the Doctor’s antics. Once she was on top, she reached a hand down to pull the Doctor up onto the lid with her. It buckled under their weight, and the Doctor gripped onto Yaz’s arms. It was things like this, when touch wasn’t quite necessary but happened anyway, that Yaz savored for every moment she could. 

“Bit of a wobble,” the Doctor said as she lowered her hands until they’d left Yaz’s arms entirely. Yaz’s eyes followed the Doctor, though she was only half-listening, her mind teasing her with thoughts of the Doctor’s hands sliding elsewhere. “Should be fine.” The Doctor jumped down onto the pavement before turning to reach up toward Yaz. She stared down into her big green eyes and realized she was meant to jump into them like a child into a swimming pool. 

Yaz’s hands fell onto the Doctor’s shoulders as she let gravity bring her into the Doctor’s arms. The Doctor removed them too soon and Yaz’s waist burned where her hands had lingered. “Come on, Yaz,” the Doctor took her hand, “no time to waste if we’re to get you there in ten minutes!” 

“Get me where?” Yaz said, her mind snapping back to present like an elastic band, leaving her mouth dry. 

“Deva Loka! Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already,” the Doctor said, letting go of her hand. Yaz had almost not realized she’d taken it, but could not ignore its absence once she’d removed it. She watched as the Doctor whirled around on her heel and raised her arms. Yaz prepared herself for one of the Doctor’s animated speeches about history or science, some long tale of what happened or could happen, possibly about some historical figure she claimed to have some personal relationship with. She probably did, however wild her claims might be. 

Yaz had learned to never disregard something because it sounds unrealistic– she traveled around in a blue box that was bigger on the inside with some mad spacewoman fighting aliens and things, after all. She’d seen and learned and lived so much with the Doctor– so much more than she’d ever dreamed, yet it was never enough. Her life in Sheffield– she couldn’t go back to that, now. To visit, of course, she loved her family even though they drove her bananas, but she couldn’t imagine living life one day at a time like that anymore. Resolving petty disputes and making tea when she could be saving whole planets and seeing impossible wonders. 

And then there was her. 

The Doctor. 

Yaz couldn’t imagine life without her– that mysterious blonde woman that fell from the sky, all bubbly and brilliant. She’d gotten to first name basis with Yaz before she even knew her own name! She’d wanted more, and she’d certainly gotten it– not what she expected, but so much better. Of all the things and places and people she’d met while traveling with the Doctor, none came close to being as remarkable as the Doctor herself. 

And right now, she was frowning. 

“What’s wrong?” She knew that face– one of the Doctor’s many expressions that Yaz knew all too well. It was usually followed by bad news, which was almost always followed by trouble. 

“Something’s very wrong here, Yaz,” the Doctor said, looking around the busy streets with apprehension. 

Yaz looked at the same streets. They were lined with shops, a sliver of a park off to their right. She saw civilians in suede jackets, kaftans, psychedelic prints, and hemp. The people seemed happy, in general, no immediate danger or alien activity that Yaz could see. “Aside from the mismatched clothing, I don’t see anything wrong here.” They looked, in Yaz’s opinion, to have deliberately been mixing fabrics and colors in a horrendous fashion, but she supposed it must have been ‘in’ at the time. That, or this was the midlife crisis of all fashion trends. Yaz looked down at her combat boots, skinny jeans, sweater, and a leather moto jacket. In this scenario, she was the one ill-dressed and, for the first time since leaving the alley where they left the TARDIS, she was confronted with the fact she was dreadfully _over_ dressed. She squinted up at the sun, which seemed to be throwing an offensive amount of heat down at her. 

“Something’s missing,” the Doctor seemed troubled and continued moving down the street, weaving through oncoming pedestrians. 

“Clouds?” Yaz wanted to shed her jacket but didn’t want to fall behind. Yaz couldn’t help but be a bit piqued by the Doctor. She’d held her hand in the alley, but now that they faced a crowd threatening to separate them, she walked alone. 

Without warning, the Doctor came to an abrupt stop. Yaz bumped into her, looking first at her face, and then following her line of sight to the building in front of them. She tried to see what the Doctor saw, some clue to what was so important about this building but came up short. “Doctor, what is it?” 

“Yaz, you’re looking at the epicenter of one of the most important events in human history– the Stonewall Riots,” the Doctor said, and Yaz still hadn’t a clue what she was on about. Further, this did not look like there had been a riot here. Perhaps it was in the future? It would be very like the Doctor to get sidetracked by a historical monument. “The riots that happen here kickstart the Gay Liberation movement in the United States, allowing for equality to be achieved in the future. Your future.” 

“You’re saying the LGBT movement started in a bar?” Yaz tried to scrape through her primary school history lessons. She couldn’t remember much about LGBT history, let alone in the US. 

The Doctor shook her head, raising her hands to begin a series of gestures that always accompanied her monologues. “There was already plenty of gasoline for the fire, Yaz. They just needed a spark. That spark happens here, June 28, 1969, and that spark ignites a global movement– but something or someone has interfered with history,” the Doctor said and moved their conversation to the front of the establishment. She pressed her face to the glass and cupped her hands to stop reflections and let her see better. 

“Like Krasko with the Montgomery bus boycott?” Yaz recalled their dip into the past, placing a hand on her back and leaning closer in a conspiratorial fashion. “I thought he was sent back in time?” Ryan had said he’d sent him back as far as he could. Could he have sent him forward by accident? 

“Krasko’s not the only one who likes to meddle with human history,” the Doctor said, removing her hands from the glass and looking at Yaz with determination. She could practically see the gears turning in her mind, already working on the problem at hand. Sorting who was behind it and how to stop them. Set things right. Save humanity. 

Yaz didn’t need to ask to know Deva Loka was going to have to wait.


	2. S&E

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yaz and the Doctor set off to investigate Stonewall and what might be interfering with history. Like so many other of their escapades, it requires bending the rules. 
> 
> But will PC Khan go along with it? 
> 
> Will they get away with it? 
> 
> And what _is_ on the Doctor's head?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: police brutality, misogyny, homophobia
> 
> This chapter includes their first run-in with a bigoted police officer. The content itself is not graphic, but still may trigger some individuals. Feel free to reach out with any questions! My handle is @sheregenerated everywhere but tumblr, where it's @sheregenerated13
> 
> If you would like to skip this section, please search the page for "pinball" and safely read on from that point. 
> 
> On a lighter note, Happy Birthday Bailey XD

“What’s the plan?” Yaz asked, partially because she wanted to know but mostly to remind the Doctor that they should definitely have one. Yaz preferred to have a plan if at all possible, a mission and directive, to help achieve their goal but also to keep them on the same page if they were separated. Even if the plan got thrown out the window five minutes in, it was a good place to start. 

“I was thinking we should take a little peek inside.”

“Breaking and entering?” Yaz shouldn’t have been surprised, really. The Doctor used her sonic mostly for opening doors to places they weren’t supposed to go. But even if they were about fifty years in the past, Yaz was still a police officer. 

“ _Sonicing_ and entering,” the Doctor corrected in a hopeful tone, picking up on Yaz’s apprehension. Yaz still wasn’t convinced. 

“In broad daylight?” Yaz said in sotto. Had the Doctor thought this through? There were enough people around to see them, even an officer or two nearby, though their uniforms looked nothing like Yaz’s back in Sheffield. 

“You’d be surprised what you can get away with in a crowd,” the Doctor said in a tone that indicated it was not an entirely positive statement. Yaz knew it all too well– not just from her experience as an officer, but back in school. The anonymity and security provided by the masses allowed people to be cruel or do things they shouldn’t with little chance of repercussion. 

Izzy Flint came to mind. 

Yaz sighed and shifted so her body shielded anyone seeing the Doctor sorting the lock. “Doctor–” 

“I know, I know,” the Doctor fished in her pocket for her sonic. Half her arm had disappeared into her coat pocket. The Doctor had a knack for getting into trouble and her companion just happened to be a straight-laced police officer. “You can arrest me later–”

“Doctor–” 

“You don’t have to go on about it–” 

“ _Doctor–_ ” 

“Ah! Got it–” 

“Got what?” a voice that was very much not Yaz’s caught the Doctor’s attention. 

“Good morning, sir,” Yaz said, dipping into her PC Khan persona. The officer eyed them with suspicion, hands on his utility belt which, to Yaz’s relief, did not include a sidearm. Yaz was already calculating her move to restrain the larger man, if it came to it. The odds weren’t in her favor, but Yaz was scrappy. She could handle herself. 

“What’re you two up to?” 

“Oh, just enjoying the sun,” Yaz said with a smile, the blistering heat causing a bead of sweat to roll off her brow. She hoped he didn’t see it as nervousness. He looked Yaz up and down, clearly skeptical about her excuse. 

“In those clothes?” Yaz wished she and the Doctor weren’t wearing jackets. It must have been 38 degrees out, the heat magnified by the city structure, baking them like an oven. 

“We’re not from around here,” the Doctor chimed in. Yaz thought she had things under control, or well enough. She hoped the Doctor made things better and not worse. Sometimes her words moved mountains and other times they caused landslides. “Just having a look around. This place looks nice. Is it open?” 

“Not the sort of place you want to be,” he replied, his expression like he’d bit into something sour. “You should go home to your husbands.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” the Doctor said, “I heard it’s a riot!” She looked at Yaz with a conspiratorial grin, laughing at her own joke. “My wife would love it.” 

“Your _what?”_ Yaz was momentarily stunned. Was she talking about Yaz? Was she trying to stir up trouble? If not… was the Doctor actually married? And to a woman? 

Yaz lived for these nuggets of information. Crumbs left by the Doctor as she blazed ahead, never looking back. It was all Yaz could do to keep up with her. All she wanted to understand her, feel closer to her. Sometimes they felt so close it was like they shared a brain, but other times she felt worlds away, chasing some unattainable goal. 

Except right now, she wasn’t running. Even when the officer reached for his baton. 

“Doctor–” Yaz said in a warning tone. _We should go._

The Doctor leaned back with minute precision, dodging the baton as if it came at her in slow motion. Yaz’s eyes widened as his arm swung through the space where the Doctor had been and continued in Yaz’s direction. His arm stopped just short of her face, the Doctor’s white knuckles the only thing separating the two. Yaz could see them shaking, the force required to stop harm from coming to her companion, yet restraint against retaliation. 

Yaz felt a flurry of emotions swirl inside her at this. An appreciation for the Doctor, so quick to protect her and clearly stronger than she looked. How her biceps flexed perceptibly even through her shirt. But also feelings that forced a frown line between her strong eyebrows. Feelings like indignation, dismay, even offence swelled within her when grappling with the fact that this man who had just assaulted them was supposedly an officer of the law set to protect the public. He hadn’t even stopped to read her rights or try to de-escalate the situation. He’d just gone for her like this was the wild west– but that was a different time… wasn’t it? 

“On second thought, maybe another time,” the Doctor said as she ducked under his arm, grabbing Yaz’s hand and yanking her into motion before releasing him from her grip. Yaz cast a glance back at him to see he’d lost his footing– he must have been exerting a lot of force against the Doctor. Yaz noted that if she were ever in need of a decision-making tie-breaker with the Doctor, to choose something other than arm-wrestling. 

They wove through the crowd like a pinball chaotically ricocheting around the inside of an arcade machine. 

It took Yaz a moment to realize that the sound of a whistle was from the police officer and not the wind against her ears. It called nearby officers to attention and, given how much attention they were drawing as they cut through the crowd, holding hands, dressed for a different climate and different time… Yaz could see they weren’t going to make it back to the TARDIS. 

Yaz dug in her heels, pulling the Doctor abruptly into a nearby alley. Her eyes were wide and confused, searching Yaz’s for some silent answer for her actions. 

“Take off your coat,” Yaz said as brazenly as she had the first day they met. 

“Excuse me?” Yaz began to take off her own coat, and the movement was not lost on the Doctor. 

“Your coat. Take it off.” 

The Doctor swallowed dryly. 

“You need to lose the coat, Doctor,” Yaz said, “you’re too easily spotted.” 

“I love this coat– you bought me this coat!” 

Yaz’s heart warmed at the sentimentality of the comment, but her pragmatic side steeled her against the Doctor’s hesitation and imminent pout. 

“I’m not saying you chuck it, but you can’t wear it right now,” Yaz said, “if they’ve had a chance to share our description, I guarantee that coat is your identifying characteristic.” Blonde, rainbow-clad, and wearing a long blue-grey coat. There were plenty of blondes and rainbows, but only one person mad enough to be running around in a full-length coat in the middle of a heat island. 

Yaz was fully prepared to argue her reasoning, but it appeared her tone leant from police training had done the trick. It was also possible the Doctor had come to those conclusions or just decided to go along with what Yaz had suggested for other reasons. She was proud of herself for the idea and small victory in convincing the Doctor, but a bit disappointed it hadn’t earned her points. It didn’t really matter, she knew that, but she craved that validation and the feeling that the Doctor thought highly of her. 

The Doctor handed her coat to Yaz, lending for a confused expression when she began marching over to the dumpster further down the alley. “Doctor, what are you–” the Doctor put her hand on the lid and pushed it up with enough force for it to swing all the way over and hit the back of the metal container. After a moment dedicated to thinking of how strong her arms must be to exert that much force without seeming to use much effort at all, Yaz watched the Doctor push herself up and tip over so she hung balancing over the edge, half her body on the outside and the other dangling inside the dumpster. 

Yaz’s face twisted with disgust as the Doctor began rummaging through the bin. She began to walk over, but did not move to remove the Doctor. Instead, she waited for the Doctor to finish… whatever it was she was doing. A crease formed between her brow as the Doctor’s legs flailed. She could hear the Doctor rambling to herself– to Yaz, possibly– as she dug through the waste. Just standing next to the dumpster was enough of an assault to her senses– she couldn’t imagine sticking her head into the bin itself. 

“What are you looking for?” Yaz felt a bit like she had at the charity shop when they first met. She was just standing, holding clothes, waiting for the Doctor while she rummaged through things. At least this time she didn’t have to pay for it. That consolation was not enough to forgive the smell of hot trash baked into her nostrils.

“Almost got it…” with all the grace of a toddler in a gymnastics class, the Doctor dismounted and thrust her hands into the air. “Tada!” The Doctor flipped a derby bowler hat into her head, sporting a grin so wide it threatened to crack her face. “What do you think?” 

“It’s like you’re a whole different person.” 

“All I need is a cane and i’ll look just like Charlie Chaplin– you’d love him, Charlie Chaplin...” 

The Doctor was doing that thing where it was like she had twenty-seven brains running at once and her mouth was trying to speak for all of them. 

“...back in the wardrobe, row 67292, shelf 48376262, section alpha-spaghetti-soap… at least it used to be. Who knows where she’s put it now… might’ve slipped it in my pocket, even...” 

The Doctor was now giving the impression she was going to be adding more to her new look. Yaz wasn’t sure if that meant another dive in the dumpster or a conspicuous umbrella she might pull from her coat pocket. Yaz imagined that, at some point, the Doctor had done a bit of dimensional engineering to allow for more pocket space. Something that Yaz felt all clothes could do with. 

“Let’s get going,” Yaz said, tucking their coats under her arm. The longer they lingered, the more likely they were to be found– and the more likely the Doctor was to keep adding “cool” items to her “disguise.” 

“One more thing, Yaz,” the Doctor said, holding out an empty trash bag that had decidedly _not_ been empty when she found it. She looked at Yaz expectantly, in spite of her own face now being in a scronch. With a sigh, she deposited their coats into the trash bag. The Doctor flung it over her shoulder, now looking as if she really did belong in one of those old Charlie Chaplin films– as a hobo walking along the tracks. “Come on, Yaz!” The Doctor marched off toward the street at the other end of the alley. “Shortcut!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many references did you spot in this chapter? It may or may not include references to some classic who, new who, books, and other fun stuff. Pretty much all of my chapters have some references because I can't resist myself. 
> 
> All of them include gay panic. 
> 
> Remember kids: be crime, do gay!

**Author's Note:**

> Please comment! I live off of comments! They inspire me to keep writing and posting for all of your lovely people. Feel free to ask questions as well, I am happy to discuss anything really. Though I may pull a River at times–– spoilers ;) 
> 
> Yes, you can absolutely expect this much, if not more, gay panic in every chapter. You're welcome. 
> 
> Former title: Let's Start A Riot  
> Reason for changing: I'm hilarious.


End file.
